Aftermath
by friendoftheearth
Summary: My first ever attempt at an Aaron story, posted back in April 2010.


This is an old story, my first ever Aaron/Paddy story, the first three parts of it anyway (it was never finished) which I think, hope can stand alone, anyway I'm reposting simply because I'm left feeling a little nostalgic after Aaron leaving, wanting to revisit the time it all started.

My thanks as always to my inspirational beta and friend Sylvain

Aftermath

Paddy

I don't know how long I've been sitting here, perched so dejectedly at the top of the stairs. I've lost all sense of time, emotions having overpowered me and, for a while it seems, robbed me of my senses.

My tears have dried now and misery sits like a cloak upon my shoulders, heavy and oppressive. I'm aware of an inner pain, an incessant ache in my heart, and I'm half out of my mind with worry. All but paralysed with dread. Frightened for him and scared for me, terrified I've lost him too.

I've never felt so helpless, so inadequate. I don't know what to do, how best to help him, how to make things right.

I have no idea where he is, where he'll go. It's a cold winter's night, yet he felt safer out there in its icy grip than here in the warmth with me.

I know he's running from what haunts him, fleeing blindly like some feral creature into the night.

And I just let him go! But then I had to. I couldn't keep him here, I knew no amount of reasoning or show of physical force would stop his panicked flight.

The little voice inside was telling me he needed time, time alone to think, and that when he had, he would come back. And he will come back. He has to!

If he doesn't... well, I don't want to think about that.

Did I push him too far tonight? I cornered him and, like a trapped animal, he lashed out.

Maybe if I'd handled it differently, put more thought into my actions or simply just backed off when he told me to. Maybe then it wouldn't all be such a mess now.

No! No, I think maybe pushing him, forcing it out of him was the only way. He keeps everything locked up inside. That isn't good, it isn't healthy.

I've always known he was troubled, anger always bubbling just under the surface, ready to erupt at the least provocation. I've witnessed it enough times to know that. There's always been so much pent-up emotion and I was on the receiving end of it tonight. I suppose I should be angry at what he did, but I'm not. There's a strange numbness where the anger should be.

I know he deeply regrets what happened, I saw the remorse in his eyes, heard it in his voice. There was fear there too. He expected rejection, but I wasn't going to do what he fears so very much. I could never turn my back on him; I will never let him down like he's been let down so many times before.

He's had it rough, he's been passed from pillar to post, abandoned, disowned. He maybe eighteen but he's still very much a lost boy and he needs me. I never knew just how much until now.

He crashed into my life with the impact of a force ten gale. But I loved Chas and I was determined to get close to her wayward son. To be honest, I wasn't sure I could ever like him, let alone love him; he was far from endearing at first. A nasty little oik, in fact. He gave me so much lip, so much stick! He really did make my life hell.

At some, point I realised he was testing me, and some gruelling marathon that turned out to be! But I must have done something right because slowly things changed. He started to like me, even respect me and finally to trust me... to some degree anyway.

Then his world fell apart again.

He was so hurt when Chas left me and moved in with Carl; I could see just how much, but I still told him to leave, hurting him some more.

"Why are you being like this with me?" he had asked, and quite rightly too. After all, he hadn't done anything, it wasn't him who had ripped my heart out and torn it in two. He had tried to reason with me, saying, "Paddy, we're supposed to be mates."

"Not anymore!" I tossed back at him; I couldn't bear to see the look of hurt on his face and hurriedly left the room. Half way up these same stairs, I was regretting those words, but I couldn't take them back, not then, not when I was hurting so much myself. And in that exact same moment, I realised something else, that the boy had the power to hurt me emotionally and I didn't want to leave myself open to further grief.

So I went on to drown my sorrows and pain, but no amount of drinking or of telling myself I was better off without him in my life could convince me of that, and even with the hangover from hell, I knew I had to somehow make amends.

I was horrified to learn he'd run off. It took me a while but I eventually found him and that daft mutt of his. They both seemed pleased to see me and after some empty threats and swallowing of pride on both sides, he got in the car.

He seemed determined to live here with me and I can admit now that I was secretly pleased.

I knew he needed a steadying influence, a guiding hand and I tried to steer him right. I did my best to be what was lacking in his life.

Things settled for a while but it seems Aaron's a trouble magnet. He did some stupid things, caused me some sleepless nights but, in between those times, we grew closer, a lot closer.

Still, I had no inkling about his sexuality or rather his struggle with it. I don't think I can berate myself for that though; he kept that well and truly hidden from the world.

He's going to have to accept who he is, he has a difficult road ahead but at least now he doesn't have to walk it alone.

_Aaron_

My feet and thumb have got me to someplace near Manchester, but I've had it with hitching. The drivers who stop always seem to want to talk. They start off asking where I'm heading, then when I'm settled in beside them, the real questions start. They seem to know I'm running from something. It's like they recognise trouble when they see it!

I've just spent an uncomfortable hour with a lorry driver. He said he was heading south, that sounded as good a place as any to me so I told him, "That'll do me, mate." I think he was hoping for some company, someone to help pass a little time in his long lonely day. But me climbing into his cab didn't help his day any. I didn't want to talk. I just wanted to stare out the window and lose myself somewhere off in the distance.

He eventually got the message and turned the radio up, rocking it out with AC/DC.

When he pulled up at a greasy spoon, I thanked him and quickly made for the nearest bus stop. I wasn't hungry for food or any more idle chat.

So now I'm sitting in a busy bus terminal, life going on noisily around me. There's a kid crying, a man whistling some tuneless song and somewhere a ring tone is sounding loudly.

I've switched my phone off, knowing it would ring and that I wouldn't have the guts to answer it; I'm not ready to hear the concern at the other end.

I keep trying to empty my mind. I don't want to have to feel or care anymore. But the hurting won't stop. Everything I see and hear takes me back to the village and to the other night, to the start of this endless road trip.

A shiver runs through me when I remember how I pulled away from the reassurance and comfort of loving arms and stepped into the empty night.

I didn't know where I was going, and I didn't care. I just knew I had to get away. As far away from Emmerdale as was possible. So, half blinded by tears, I ran and I ran until I just couldn't run anymore.

I thought leaving was the answer, the only way to escape the nightmare I'm trapped in, but I was wrong, because the further away I get, the more it hurts inside and the more scared and alone I feel.

I've messed up again; I've turned my back on the one good thing in my life.

His last words to me kept going round and round in my mind; no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't silence them. And as long as they sounded in my head, my tears kept on falling. Like my temper, I just couldn't control them.

But a lot of hours and a lot of miles have passed since then and I'm back in control. The snivelling wimp's been replaced by a terminal hard case.

That's how I want the world to see me, that's what I want to be known as. That way people will keep their distance, I won't hurt them and they won't dare hurt me!

I'm never going to give anyone cause to call me a queer. That word makes me feel sick inside. No, I don't want anyone calling me that. I'd kill anyone who did!

Like I told Paddy, I'm not like that; I don't want to be like that.

I know he believed it when he said, "You don't have a choice. If you're gay, then you're gay." Well, he was wrong! He's not wrong about much usually, but he's dead wrong about that.

Shit! I'm back to thinking about Paddy again. I told myself I wouldn't, not while I'm surrounded by all these people.

It's too late. The damage is done. I hear his voice, and a picture of his bruised, bloodied face pops into my head. Shameful reminders of what I did, of what I am, of what I've left behind. Emotion surges up inside and tears again betray me. I quickly blink them away before some stranger sees.

So much for being in control!

I just can't think about Paddy and what he said without losing it. That no holds barred conversation we had at the top of the stairs really opened my eyes. I'd never given any thought to how things had changed between us. I hadn't realised just how important he'd become in my life. Paddy was Paddy! Always there, and always on my side. He's become so much more than a friend.

Why? I don't know. I'm no good, I've been told enough times.

But never by Paddy! No matter what stupid thing I said or mindless thing I did, he never thought any less of me. He never turned his back on me either, except that once. But that doesn't count. That was down to 'her', the cow left him for that tosser Carl. She hurt him like she'd hurt me and like me he lost it for a while. I don't think he could stand to look at me knowing I was her son, maybe I reminded him of what he'd lost?

He was soon out looking for me though, and after bawling me out for running off, he talked to me, yeah to me and not at me, letting me know that he really did care. He ended up taking me in again, me and Clyde. Now he had two of the world's most unwanted under his roof.

He could have treated me like a lodger, kept it all business like, insisting the room and facilities were mine just as long as I paid the rent. But he didn't, he made it my home and me a part of his life. And I let him into mine.

Not that he gave me much choice. He just bulldozed his way in. With everyone else having given me the bums rush, he seemed to think I needed looking after, like I was some little kid. He made me his responsibility. I don't know where I'd be now if he hadn't done such a good job of looking out for me? Prison, probably.

He's not taken any muppetry from me lying down. He's not the soft touch I once thought him to be. He's bawled me out when I've crossed the line, banged on at me when I've messed up. He's made me see where I was going wrong and put me right.

And he's got me out of trouble so many times, sometimes before I even knew I was in it! He must have got fed up of asking "What were you thinking?" My answer was always the same, "I wasn't thinking, Paddy!"

He's dished out plenty of advice, whether I wanted it or not, and want it or not I did listen and take it all in. What he said always made me think. Just like he's got me thinking now.

Paddy's been a father to me! And he still wants to be even though he knows my secret.

I know he's the one person who I can trust to keep it. So why am I running from him now when I know what's between us?

I need him; I need him more than ever before. I need his quiet strength to help me through this.

I can turn it around. It's not too late. I've just got to learn to control the sick urges inside of me.

That goes for the tears and the temper, too. I can't ever lose it with Paddy again.

He should have hit back. I wish he had. I know he's got it in him somewhere. He's hauled Carl King off me a few times, got in between us and warned him off. I know he'd have lamped him one too if he'd had to.

But violence just isn't Paddy's way; he'd rather reason something out than let his fists fly. He's a good bloke, too good for the likes of Chastity Dingle! There's one thing I know for sure and it's that we're both better off without her!

Ah! Typical! I've been waiting nearly an hour for a bus and now two come along together! Their destinations have just been announced so all I have to do now is decide which one to get on.

Do I keep on running or make my way home?

I know what Paddy would tell me to do.

Aaron 

It's taking forever to get back to Emmerdale, I've had to change buses twice but now I'm finally on the Hotton line. Another ten minutes or so and I'll be there.

Earlier, on a National Express coach, I finally worked up the nerve to switch my phone back on. My message box was full. I didn't read me mam's texts, I wasn't interested in what she had to say, I just deleted them. But I read all of Paddy's, and listened to his voicemail messages. He told me to come home in every single one, he sounded so worried. I hate myself for putting him through all this.

He said he was ok, but I bet he hasn't been to see a doctor. The other night, he said "it wasn't too bad" but I know he wasn't being honest with me. He was more concerned about me opening up to him than him getting some medical attention. He was putting me first; he always does, he's the only one who ever has.

The village is just up ahead now; the bus is beginning to slow down. I get to my feet as it lurches to a halt. My heart is racing as I step off it. It almost stops when I see who's talking to Paddy. She's the last person I want to see.

She's looking at me like I've got two heads, but Paddy wouldn't have told her about me, I know he wouldn't.

I make for the house, desperate to get inside and away from her. But she's right behind me, screeching at me, reminding me of what I've done.

Paddy steps in, reassures me and soon it's him getting all the grief. I end up yelling at him too and, sickened by it all, I make for my room.

I hear more angry words as I run up the stairs and then I hear a door slam. I haven't been back two minutes and I'm causing upset. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I wanted to speak to Paddy, put things right between us. He doesn't deserve all this aggro.

I sink down onto my bed, all the fights drained out of me. I just want to close my eyes and drown in the darkness.

I hear Paddy on the stairs, anyone else would barge right in but not him, he knocks, calls me mate! He manages to make me feel both wanted and safe in the blink of an eye.

I tell him I'm sorry and I know he believes me. But he's not so convinced when I tell him everything's sorted, that I'm fine.

Paddy 

Thank God! He's home and he's safe. I just wish Chas wasn't here. He won't want to speak to her. She's determined to have her say though and is only inches behind Aaron as he hurries through the door.

Just as I feared, she's waded in with both guns blazing! Now, he's on the defensive and she's doing more harm than good.

Weariness washes over me as Chas storms away, but she's the least of my concerns right now. I make my way up to Aaron, he really does need me.

He looks exhausted, and sounds so defeated. Again, I'm reminded of a lost boy.

I try to reassure him, to help him see that everything will be alright. For a little while, I dare hope he's listening and believing, but then he tells me everything is sorted and my heart sinks to a new depth.

I leave him to get some rest and try unsuccessfully to lose myself in a TV programme. A couple of hours later, I'm still brooding over what he said, I'm beginning to realise that Aaron might need to talk to someone who knows what he's going through, and not some well-meaning ignorant like me!

Suddenly, he's behind me, trying to make light conversation. I sense he doesn't want to talk about anything heavy, but I plough right on in and immediately he's heading for the door. Out of desperation, I suggest he speaks to a professional, what he then says worries me even more. "I'm not giving in to it. I nearly did, but I'm not."

I fight the urge to shake some sense into him, to make him see that there's nothing wrong with what he is, that the problem is of his own making. I try to reason with him instead, but he uses the phrase 'one of them' and I realise just how hard opening his eyes is going to be.

I sit us down and again try to get through to him. But it's like talking to a brick wall. Then the conversation takes an unpleasant turn, and for a minute, I think he'll lash out at me again. It grows more heated and it's my turn to lose control. I manage to rein my temper in and dole out some more advice only to hear him dismiss it with "So what! I'd rather that than everyone thinking I'm a perv! End of."

It's not the end of anything though, it's just the beginning!


End file.
